I care about Miley Cyrus

1 08 2008

With the economy being in the toilet, with gas prices being through the roof, with this post being riddled with cliché language, with my parents creeping precariously close to their eighties — why do I care about Miley Cyrus?

I can’t help myself. I want to know: what will she do next? I care. I care too much. I ask myself, “Does she write those songs herself?” I ask others, “Did you know her Dad, Billy Ray Cyrus, says he is trying to raise her right even though she is like a mega star?” I ask God, “Do I have an achy breaky heart…for Miley Cyrus’ career?”

I also worry the Miley Cyrus doesn’t eat enough sandwiches and carrot sticks.  Sometimes Miley looks too skinny.  I realize that by even mentioning her makes you worry about me, but dwelling on this Disney Channel queen, fills a void for me. When I was growing up, there were no tween starlets that acted in shows, sang catchy songs, and made clothing lines or jewelry. There were Debbie and Tiffany, but they weren’t even close to Miley. They just sang, mostly in malls I think, but I didn’t like them and they certainly weren’t everywhere like Miley Cyrus. They were only in teen magazines, like “Teen Bop”, certainly not “Vanity Fair”. They didn’t have the best of both worlds. They didn’t have the best of my world. They were sort of embarrassing, but everyone loves Miley and in true tween-age fashion I will follow the crowd.

Miley, you make me love you and for me, that is not a seventh thing.

– Mister Paula Pazderka

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